Follow Me Home
by abelmayfair
Summary: Marceline, a college junior attending the prestigious Catholic school Notre Dame College experiences some of the wild side from the last person she expected. Graphic lewdness, rated M for sex and BDSM content.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to a collaborative effort between myself and Plesiosaur. There'll be graphic lesbian lewdness and BDSM scenes from the opening and age-gap bubbline. Enjoy.**

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Sitting in the auditorium waiting for class to start was a very particular kind of torture. Marceline smirked to herself, more than willing to wait for as long as necessary. She was perfectly happy sitting on her uncomfortable plastic bench with the radiant agony of long raised welts running from her lower back all the way to the tops of her legs pulsing under her skin, turning her thoughts to the night before.

 _"Hey cutie, how would you like to come to the playroom with me?"_

 _Tall and slender, dressed in a figure hugging black leather catsuit the woman radiated confidence and sexuality. And she was smiling at Marceline like she'd just noticed a particularly tasty morsel on a buffet. Wow, the online reviews had been right, this club was the place to come if you wanted to try something a little less vanilla. This wasn't just a little less vanilla though; this went right through plain old vanilla and all the way into the far side of dark chocolate. And Marceline was so eager to discover if dark chocolate was as delicious as she thought it would be._

"Yo, thanks for saving my seat." a voice next to her announced, quickly followed by Finn dropping down heavily next to her and making her wince at the extra vibrations against her bruises. "So, anatomy, huh? You excited to be a junior?"

"Hey. Can't talk. Hungover." Marcy lied distantly. Not that she didn't like Finn well enough to hang with but she was too busy thinking about the night before, about slender hands checking her restraints and sliding a black silken blindfold over her eyes before a warm voice was murmuring in her ear.

 _"You got a safeword, cute stuff?"_

 _"Uh, peppermint."_

 _"Yeah, ok. You tell me that if I get too rough, right? We'll start with a little open handed spanking to warm you up. You can call me Princess, or mistress, or Your Highness if you're into that. What about you, sweet thing? What do they call you?"_

 _"Marceline." she replied honestly, a little too out of her depth to think clearly. The woman laughed softly._

 _"Your scene name. You think my parents christened me Princess?"_

 _"Oh. Uh. Nightwing?" she hazarded, still feeling a little stupid saying it out loud. Scene names were something else that was completely new to her but it made sense that a lot of people who gathered at private parties to spank like-minded individuals probably didn't want their real names to end up getting handed around._

 _"Nightwing, like the superhero. Got it. No need to explain, kid. I can tell you're new to this. First time on the scene, huh? Well, Nightwing the Newbie, shall we get started?"_

 _The first firm slap landed against her ass before she had time to tense in anticipation and Marcy let out a little mewl of surprise. She'd been expecting Princess to start out slow and gentle, warm her up some before increasing the speed and force. But she was already more than a little turned on just from being tied face down across the table, blindfolded and spanked by a very hot stranger. Before long she'd forgotten that everyone else in the fetish club could hear her moans and cries as the hard slaps turned into lashes from a vicious single tailed flogger and finally the agonizing burn of a rigid willow cane. And through it all Princess kept on talking to her, asking if she was ok, caressing her neck and cheeks, trailing kisses down the bruises and welts she'd just inflicted on toned, willing flesh._

College was supposed to be the place where a girl could experiment and find herself. Not Marceline, not when going to the best Catholic college her father's money could buy was the only thing her parents had agreed on in twenty years. And before that all they'd ever had in common was one night when they'd both agreed that condoms were a much worse sin than fornication and besides, they could risk it just one time. Her mother was fond of telling her she was a miracle sent from God and she was the only good thing to have come out of her parents' little indiscretion. Her Mom probably meant that to be comforting but Marceline had never found it to be anything but pressuring.

And that was a problem because Marceline wasn't what her mother thought she was. She wasn't virtuous or innocent, she wasn't going to Catholic college for any other reason than because it was halfway across the country and nobody expected anything from her except attending classes and passing exams. So, maybe college was somewhere she could turn herself around after all. After spending her first couple of years at Notre Dame jumping whenever someone mentioned anything even slightly queer or kinky and wishing she was braver Marceline had finally gotten together enough courage to join an online group and explore some interests that she'd been repressing pretty hard until then. It took six months of talking to people online and deciding she finally felt comfortable enough to meet face to face before she finally accepted the invitation to that month's private party. It more than lived up to her expectations. And now that she'd actually gone and done it and experienced things other people only fantasized about she had to face dumb reality again like she hadn't just had her entire world turned upside down.

"So you know much about the professor for this class?" Finn asked conversationally. He waited the appropriate length of time for a response and when Marceline just continued to stare sleepily into space he elbowed her in the ribs. She recoiled from him a lot harder than he'd expected; wow his gym sessions must be finally paying off, he was stronger than he realized. Or she had bruised ribs for some reason, probably tripped and fallen onto something again. His friend was notoriously clumsy.

"What?" Marceline snapped, fixing him with a pissed off frown.

"I was just asking if you'd checked out Professor Sugar yet. I looked her up on the faculty website because Jake said she's a serious piece of ass. Doctor of Medicine, Master's degree in robotics, she's Harvard alumni and used to teach at MIT. Plus Jake was right, she's one stone cold fox. Talk about a serous MILF. Tragic dresser though, her staff photo was some big pink gown or something. Bet she'd look better out of it than in-"

"Finn, shut the fuck up." Marcy told him lazily. She'd remembered that the woman from last night had been wearing pink too, pink lace panties under her catsuit and pink sheets on the bed in her apartment. But a lot of women liked pink, it wasn't like Marceline cared especially not when she was wrist deep in the other woman and there were screams of pleasure ringing in her ears.

 _The burn of the cane against her ass became all she could focus on, over and over again with just enough time between strikes to enjoy the heat of agony and feel her muscles convulse before another sharp blow connected and the waves of pleasure-pain grew maddeningly intense. She should have recognized what was about to happen but it was a totally different route to climax than anything she'd ever experienced before and by the time the first crest of intense orgasm broke over her it was too late to gasp a warning anyway; all she could do was writhe and scream as it overtook her senses and hope to god that Princess didn't stop caning her until she was completely spent._

"You think this professor is gonna show or what? If she doesn't get here in half an hour we can go, right? I heard that somewhere it's a law or something. Did you hear that?" Finn finally asked again, bored and fidgety.

"Don't know, don't care. Dude, I'm hungover as fuck and I barely slept. Let me die quietly." Marceline muttered back. She hadn't even had a drink at the club, not wanting to risk her fake ID being confiscated since the woman on the photo was a few skin shades paler than her and a couple of pounds heavier around her face. She wasn't lying about being tired though.

"You're such a fun sponge."

"Whatever, dilweed."

"Bitch."

"Fag balls."

Finn grinned and mimed sucking a dick. Marcy couldn't quite keep back her answering grin. They'd been friends since they were freshmen and always took at least one class together where she constantly mocked him and called him a fag and he constantly tried to hit on every girl in sight even though he never actually called them when he did succeed in getting a number. It was deflection and they both knew it but neither of them really wanted to address the issue. Finn, despite his constant lewd talk, was still figuring out that he was asexual and Marcy wouldn't do him any favors by forcing him to face it until he was ready. She shoved him playfully in his massive bicep before returning to vividly rerunning her memories from the night before.

 _"It's ok, you don't have to be embarrassed. I'd have been offended if I couldn't get you off just from spanking you. Hey, Nightwing? You ok?"_

 _She tried to open her mouth and reply but all that happened was a goofy, lopsided grin plastered itself across her face. So this was what going into sub-space felt like? Yeah, Marceline could definitely go for that again. It was like floating, a little like being high but instead of marijuana fogging her brain it was nothing but pure endorphins that flooded her and allowed her to enjoy the soaring sensation with perfect clarity. She barely even felt it when Princess untied her arms and helped her to perch groggily on the side of the table._

 _"Here, you need water and a blanket. You're gonna get cold real quick once the adrenaline wears off." the leather-clad woman told her gently as she pressed a bottle into unresisting hands and produced a fleece from somewhere. When had Princess taken off her pants? Marceline hadn't noticed, she'd been too busy enjoying the brand new sensations of someone playing her enjoyment of pain so expertly. And as the other woman leaned around her to tuck the blanket more securely it felt just so natural to reach out, catch her chin and tow her into a deep kiss. Princess hesitated for a second before kissing back and in Marcy's euphoric state it was easily the best feeling of her entire life so far._

 _"I guess you enjoyed yourself then? You, uh, want to come back to my place?" Princess asked huskily when they finally broke apart. Marcy nodded, gods yes she wanted to follow the other woman home and do whatever she wanted. This was so much more than she'd expected from her first trip out onto the scene but she wasn't complaining. So with a little help from the other woman she stumbled back out of the corridor of private rooms and down to the club dance floor where a press of anonymous bodies in masks and PVC writhed to the throbbing music. Then out into the night and into the back of a sleek black car of some kind. Marceline wasn't really paying attention, she was still too breathless and high on endorphins. They pulled up outside a quiet, suburban apartment block and Princess was opening a door and helping her inside. Before they'd even made it as far as the bedroom hands were fumbling with zippers and eager teeth were grazing lips and skin._

 _This time it wasn't pure kink, this time it was much more overtly sexual and perhaps the neighbors were used to the hot single woman who lived opposite bringing home dreamy eyed college girls and making them scream themselves hoarse in her bedroom. Maybe they'd heard it so many times they didn't even bother knocking to ask her to keep it down, not even they heard someone screaming "BITE ME! HARDER!" or "Come for me, baby. One more time." It was only when the first grey threads of daylight were snaking into the eastern horizon that they fell quiet and slept. Marcy woke long before her playmate from the night before and slipped out silently. She'd find Princess again at next month's fetish night and maybe they'd have an intensely mind blowing fuck again or work each other's bodies in the playroom again while the ecstatic cries of couples in the private rooms on either side thickened the air and added to the delicious tension._

Finally the doors at the front of the room swung open to reveal Professor Sugar, the high achieving and brilliant anatomy professor who Finn made dirty jokes about and had a reputation as hot but a poor dresser. Marceline stared.

"Good morning, class. Please forgive my tardiness, I had an alarm clock malfunction. You could say my circadian rhythm is about as good as my tango, and I can't dance."

The professor paused, waiting for the laugh she apparently expected her poor joke to elicit, and when it didn't happen she simply shrugged and continued.

"So, for those of you who weren't in my class last year I'm Professor Sugar, welcome to Anatomy. Let's just jump right in, this semester we'll be covering the central and peripheral nervous systems. Who can tell me if the autonomic nervous system is part of the CNS or the PNS? It was part of your pre-course reading this summer. Yes, Mr Muscular Blond at the back?"

"Uh, the, uh, central nervous system?" Finn hazarded. He was torn by confusion, unsure if he should answer his professor or bend down to the floor where Marceline had just flung herself with a sudden expression of panic on her face. He didn't even hear the professor correct him, he was too busy bending down to his friend.

"Marcy, what's up with you?" Finn hissed.

"I- can't-. fucking, dude I can't! I don't feel well, I have to go. Take notes for me." she replied in a quiet rush before half crawling up the steps and out of the door of the auditorium, all the time with last night's bruises screaming in protest and the woman who'd inflicted them on her and left her breathless and euphoric innocently taught her stupid anatomy class behind her. Princess was Professor Sugar; no wonder she didn't want anyone using her real name on the scene. Marceline went home and skipped all her classes that day, instead spending time in a long hot shower trying to forget the way her anatomy professor looked up into her eyes while making her writhe and scream with her incredible mouth. Oh God, she wanted to forget so hard but it even now the delicious ache from her still throbbing bruises made it impossible to think of anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all for your reviews/favorites/follows! We're thrilled that the story has been so well received ^^. Without further ado, the smut continues.**

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Avoiding Professor Sugar turned out to be much easier than Marceline had anticipated since her anatomy class was pretty big and she always sat right at the back of the room. Finn didn't need much encouragement to avoid answering questions in class and Marcy always took the seat closest to the door in the shadow of the long blinds that hung over the windows. In fact she was almost a little offended that she hadn't received any messages from Princess on her online fetish group account, not even to check she'd gotten home safe the next day. So by the time the end of the month rolled around and their private party night came she was too mad about being ignored to remember to be nervous or shy. The moment she was through the doors her long coat came off to reveal the steel boned corset and matching silk panties she'd bought just for the occasion. They were the same shade of blood red as her ridiculously tall killer PVC heels and Marceline was drawing a lot of confidence from knowing she was causing a ripple of whispers to spread through the crowd. She knew she looked damn fine and there was no way Princess was going to avoid her that night.

There she was, leaning against the bar hitting on some pretty Asian woman in a revealing PVC unicorn one piece. Well no, that would not be happening. Not if Marceline had anything to say about it. Princess looked every bit as gorgeous as she always did but something was subtly different about her here at the club; something about her was more open and more dangerous than when she was playing the mild mannered college professor. Marceline was sure that was just an act, a professional mask Princess wore through the day out of necessity just like she played the part of the innocent Catholic school girl. Well, not tonight. She marched up to the older woman and draped herself across the bar, deliberately blocking her view of the unicorn she'd been trying to pick up.

"Hey. You, me, upstairs. Now."

Princess looked up in surprise and the unicorn woman melted into the background, clearly uncomfortable being involved in anyone else's drama.

"Excuse me?" the redhead asked, looking down the length of her nose at Marceline and holding her with an intense stare.

"You heard me. Upstairs. We're not done yet."

"Listen, I realize this is all new for you, kid. But I'm the one who tells you what to do. I'm a Domme, I don't switch and I don't let some perky breasted, wicked tongued, sex bomb in red silk tell me- yeah, I just talked myself into it. Follow me."

That seemed too easy, Marcy should have realized it. But she was too furious still and too high on her own power because she'd never really dreamed that walking in like diva and ordering her actual anatomy professor to take her up to a private room would really work. The minute the door closed behind them she realized that Princess wasn't someone to be ordered around though, she'd miscalculated and the anger in the other woman's eyes wasn't part of a game.

"You want to play rough, Nightwing? Want to screw with me in public, try to make me dance to your tune? You don't have the first clue what you're doing." Princess hissed angrily. She was wearing a thin black eye mask tonight and it made Marcy shiver with a mix of fear and arousal because something about it took away the other woman's humanity, made her faceless and anonymous. That was probably the point.

"I, I just wanted to talk, why were you ignoring me?" Marceline asked in a small voice, suddenly a lot less confident than she'd been a moment ago.

" _Ignoring_ you? Are you kidding me? Listen up, newbie. I've fucked a lot of women at a lot of clubs and what they've all had in common is that they understood the concept of a casual hook up. You, apparently, don't."

"I wasn't asking you to be my girlfriend or anything. I just thought… I dunno."

"Of course you don't. What are you, like, ten years younger than me? Why do I waste my time with kids like you?" Princess asked with an eye roll. Oh yeah, there was the fury again.

"Hey, shut up!" Marcy replied angrily.

"Or what? You'll shut me up, sweet little pain slut?"

Her mother had always said she had her father's temper, not that Marceline had ever spent enough time with him to be able to tell anyway since he usually tried to pretend his queer half-Latinex bastard didn't exist. Briefly a detached part of her mind wondered if he was the sort of person who'd cross the room in two strides and pin the object of his desires up against the wall with a kiss that was more aggressive than romantic. Princess kissed back with equal force, half growling when a sudden shove against her shoulders almost succeeded in knocking her off balance. In a flash she'd hooked a foot around the back of Marceline's knees and swept them out from under her, sending the younger woman sprawling in a heap on the floor in a neat martial arts throw. Princess looked down at her with a smirk, hair disheveled from where Marcy had grabbed her.

"You're still trying to dominate me? For real? You know, I think you need to learn a lesson about how this kinda thing goes down. Hey kid, you remember your safe word?"

Marceline nodded, humiliated and turned on and secretly glad that she'd not managed to knock the other woman on her ass. She wanted Princess to order her around again, wanted to be significant to the older woman if only for one more night.

"Good. You remember that safe word and you say it if you don't want to be part of this, right? This is play, you came with me to a playroom and now we're gonna play. So you remember the rules of this club?"

"No blood play, no broken skin, no fucking, no non-consent, no penetration." Marcy repeated from memory. They were the same rules almost all fetish clubs had, things that were considered off limits in any kind of public gathering. They were all things the police would shut them down for in a heartbeat if they had any evidence at all. Spanking, pain play, restraints, those were at least dubiously legal. But breaking the skin was assault and any kind of actual sex or penetration would fall foul of public lewd conduct and indecent exposure laws. That kind of shit could land someone on the sex offenders register for life as well as get everyone else at the club investigated; the scene took their rules very serious.

"So you know I can't fuck you here, right? In fact, I'm still in two minds about whether you deserve me taking you home at all. What do you think?" Princess finished with a cruel smirk. She'd strode to the opposite wall where a range of toys and spanking implements hung and selected a lightweight bullwhip, giving it a couple of small cracks for effect before turning back to where Marceline was still crouched on her hands and knees.

"I, uh, I think I can make it up to you?" she hedged, unsure but very willing to try.

"Oh, you think? That woman you scared off was Lady Rainicorn, I've been trying to get into her pants for months. And you ruined it by barging in like that. So you better hope I like the way you scream, Nightwing. You remember the safe word? You remember this is play and you don't _have_ to do anything unless you want to? Good. Crawl for forgiveness."

The bullwhip split the air a few inches from her nose and Marceline fell back onto her ass in surprise. The next blow landed across her shoulders and she cried out in pain and pleasure. Her heart was already racing and the pain-induced adrenaline was numbing her in one way and enhancing the agony in another. The lashed kept falling across her shoulders and back, she tried to crawl away and find someplace sheltered to think but there was nowhere. Just an empty room with and angry Domme taking out her frustrations on willing flesh. Every time she tried to stagger back to her feet in those stupid heels there was the end of a whip tangling around her legs, pulling her back to her knees and leaving deep bruises that burned long after the braided leather had left her skin. Marceline had never really considered humiliation play as being a particular kink of hers but even as the tears of frustration welled in her eyes she found herself secretly hoping for more. Hoping that Princess would keep her on her knees, make her beg and crawl some more. Bruise her, mark her. Make her feel the other woman's fury all over her body for days until the bruises finally faded.

"What do you have to say to me?" the older woman demanded between whip cracks.

"I'm sorry!" Marcy sobbed.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm sorry, mistress!"

"And do you think you look pathetic, crawling around like that?"

"Yes, mistress!"

"Mm, that's what I thought. Pathetic. Subservient, cringing, degraded. And I like it like that. And I think you do too if the evidence on those soaked panties is any kind of proof. Stand up."

Finally the lashing pain of the whip around her legs and feet disappeared and Marcy was able to scramble upright again. She stood perfectly still for inspection, eyes downcast and feeling a very odd mix of aroused and ashamed. Her pulse was thumping all over her body, between her thighs and beneath every fresh bruise.

"Look at that, I made you cry real tears. Did you enjoy that?" Princess asked gently. She tilted Marcy's chin up until their eyes met and her smile was gentle again.

"Yes, mistress." Marcy whispered around her shocked sobs.

"Good. Good girl. You did great, I forgive you. Come here."

She let herself be wrapped into a hug and gave into the urge to bury her face against the soft leather of Princess' catsuit. For some reason the tears wouldn't completely stop flowing and Marceline only felt worse for looking like such an emotional wreck. She'd been planning on confronting Princess and revealing that they knew each other out in the real world, maybe finding a way to swing that to her advantage. Instead she was shivering in her professor's arms and crying against her shoulder, humiliated and turned on and so confused.

"Shh, it's ok. You're such a good girl. You did great. I think you've earned some gentle treatment for tonight, don't you?" Princess whispered against her hair. Marceline nodded and let herself be helped back to her feet and limp on sore, stiff legs to the exit.

…

Princess, it turned out, could do slow and controlled just as efficiently as she managed wild, dominant and humiliating. She murmured over and over that Marcy was a good girl, that she'd done well and she was forgiven. This time the night was full of soft touches and kisses, warm skin on warm skin and murmured words like 'please' and 'gentle'. It wasn't what Marceline had been expecting from the evening but she was more than satisfied with it by the time she was lying in a cocoon of soft arms and bed sheets, staring up at the woman who'd brought her home.

"See, this is how you know we're lesbians." Princess said with a smile. "We end up staring at each other and being all cutesy and stuff after sex. You know I'm usually the queen of one night stands, yeah?"

"You said." Marcy replied, mind blown and breathless still.

"Listen, I don't usually do this, especially not with people I meet on the fet scene. But, uh, do you wanna get dinner some time? Maybe get to know each other when we're fully dressed and not wearing either leather, latex or a corset?"

Marceline froze. That was a date invitation, her anatomy professor wanted to take her on an actual adult _date_ and she still had no idea who she really was but part of her wanted to accept _so badly_. Somewhere between the kinky spankings and the insanely hot sex and then the unexpected gentleness that had strayed suspiciously close to love making she'd begun to catch some feelings and even Marceline knew that was bad. She stared at those intensely blue eyes and bit her lip, unsure.

"It's not that I don't like you." she finally replied, feeling like the words were being ripped out of her chest.

"Then why not? We like each other, we have similar interests, we're consenting adults. You're the one who stalked me, remember? Or, oh. Is there someone else? You're married, aren't you?"

Princess rolled away with a frown, pulling the sheets around her bare shoulders like they could protect her from the pain of a rejection she obviously thought was inevitable. It hurt to see much more than Marceline had anticipated.

"No, not married. And I'm not seeing anyone, I'm not cheating with you. I'm… look, what do you even know about me, in real life?" Marcy asked dejectedly.

"I… you told me your real name was Marceline, you're twenty seven and a musician according to your online profile. Maybe, Mexican decent? Is that the problem, you're not out to your family?"

"Both maternal grandparents were Guatemalan and I've not exactly been open about my sexuality." she agreed quietly. It didn't escape Princess' notice that her playmate only chose to confirm her heritage, not any of the other details.

"And the part about you being a twenty seven year old musician?" she prompted.

"Look, don't freak out, ok?"

"Why would I freak out? Which part is the lie?"

"I'm not a full time musician, I just wish I was, and one day I want to be-"

"I don't understand why you'd lie-"

"And I'm not twenty seven."

Princess tensed in obvious surprise and sat up in shock. The thought that her pretty new playmate might actually be underage had never occurred to her but now that it had her mind was jumping to all kinds of terrible conclusions that most often ended with her going to jail for years.

"I thought people would take me more seriously if I was the same age as the fake ID, I didn't mean to lie!" Marcy begged.

"How old."

She hung her head, defeated.

"Nearly twenty."

Bonnie stared back in disbelief, the rigid expression belied only by the calculating stare that began to appraise her. Blue eyes were sweeping her face again and putting together things that hadn't quite seemed to make sense at first, like how a twenty seven year old had such obviously youthful skin or why Marceline had never been interested in buying alcohol at the club.

" _Holy fuck_ , I'm a fucking pervert, I-"

"No, no because you didn't know, please, don't freak out! I'm legal, I'm just not twenty seven yet!"

"Don't freak out? Are you serious? You're _nineteen_ , you're practically a kid! And I'm thirty seven, I'm old enough to be your mother!" Princess wailed in mounting horror.

"My mother was seventeen when she had me, she was really young and I wasn't planned." Marcy tried.

" _I'm the same age as your actual mother?"_ Princess breathed in horror. _"_ Listen, I think you should leave. Ok? This was a mistake, it never happened. Please don't come back to the club until you're even legal to be there, you know we'll get closed down if they know an underage kid was there even if you weren't drinking. Get yourself back into school and do something with your life. Whatever you thought this was, it's over."

Marcy slid out of bed reluctantly with her head spinning. There didn't seem to be anything she could do or say to change the older woman's mind so she busied herself with slipping back into the few items of clothing she'd been wearing and ruthlessly repressing any stray threads of emotion. Princess had made her cry for the last time, she wasn't going to let the hurt show even if it was completely her own fault. But she paused at the door, unwilling to leave without clearing the air completely.

"Listen, there's something else you should know. I didn't know it myself until after we hooked up last month so, please don't be mad, ok? I, um, I'm actually still in school. I don't know why you thought I was a drop out. I'm a music major but I decided to add some diversity to my schedule this semester and I let my friend Finn pick a class for us both to take together."

" _No_." Princess breathed, whipping around in horror to stare at her.

"I didn't know you were my professor. I'm sorry." Marcy whispered.

She didn't wait to be ordered out or to see what affect her words had on the other woman, she turned and hurried out into the cool night as fast as she could in her stupid heels. It wasn't quick enough to avoid catching the sound of an angry fist hitting the wall of the bedroom behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys, Plesi here. We're both really happy you like the story, please remember to send us a review and let us know what you think. There's another collab in the pipeline too, keep your eyes open for that soon.**

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Usually fall was Bonnie's favorite time of the year. She'd lived all over the country and nowhere was the fall weather more perfect than in Indiana where the air was just the right level of crisp and the leaves turned a riot of color practically overnight. But this year the only color she could really focus on was green, tinged with lust and fury. That was the color of Marceline's eyes as she stared intensely at her professor from the back of the room every single day. It was infuriating and uncomfortable, it made delivering classes more difficult than it should be and it gave her vivid flashbacks to those two nights she'd spent making the younger woman scream and moan for her. Her _student_ , it was so wrong that it was practically irresistible. The only thing keeping her from ordering Marceline to her office and bending her over the desk was the very real risk of losing her job and entire career. It wasn't worth it, she figured.

At first she'd been horrified by the age difference. The idea that she was old enough to be anyone's mother, especially a college student's, had hit her like a freight train. But the more she thought about it and replayed their nights together through her memory the less Bonnie was disturbed by it. Age differences happened every day, so long as everyone was an adult and consenting did it really matter? Still, she couldn't bring herself to stare too long into those accusing eyes or to make any move to speak to Marceline. It was safer that way, her resistance was paper-thin and she wasn't known for her self control. If Marceline pushed Bonnie would cave and they'd be back in bed making each other writhe in pleasure before she could think it through and of course that was going to lead someplace bad. Right? When had a lesbian college professor at a very conservative Catholic school getting involved with a gorgeous student ever ended well for anyone? Not to mention that her bedroom activities were much less mainstream than most people were comfortable with. No, if her employers ever found out she was a kinky dominatrix with a thirst for tying women to bondage furniture and making them scream then she'd be lucky to get a job teaching night classes at the local community college.

Despite all that, despite her logic and her excellent reasoning and her her usual rational compartmentalizing of work life and personal interests Bonnie found her eyes irresistibly drawn back to the girl with the intense stare, over and over. Until one day she saw something that made her grit her teeth with a stab of unexpected jealousy.

It hadn't escaped Bonnie's attention that Marceline was especially close to the big blond guy she always sat with. Mertens, she remembered his name from the god-awful term paper he'd turned in that had been a poor rewrite of the one his older brother had submitted the year before. He'd always stuck Bonnie as a little odd, a little like he was trying just a bit too hard to be convincing in his chilled out almost-stoner dudebro persona. Like he was covering for something or he'd seen too many family friendly sitcoms and thought college was all about combing his hair and posing in his quarterback jacket. Because of course he was there on a football scholarship. Mertens was like a character from a made-for-TV Disney channel movie about wholesome college boys. And he had his goddamn arm around Marceline like he was taking her to a drive-in movie in the fifties. No, that wasn't happening. How could Marceline even sit there with him in her fucking class like nothing had happened and expect her to just stand there talking about the central nervous system? Bonnie saw red.

...

"Abadeer, Mertens, either of you care to tell me where PCML axons from the lower body enter the posterior column?"

They both sat up a little straighter and Finn finally removed his arm from around her shoulders. Marceline was glad about that, she'd only gone along with his stupid plan to make his dumb ex Phoebe jealous out of pity for the guy and so far the other girl hadn't so much as glanced at him. But Professor Sugar had, and now she was glaring at them both like she was about to take down a bullwhip and-

 _No, don't think about that. It didn't happen, you don't know about how her chest flushes mid-orgasm or the way she buries her hands in your hair when you slide a finger inside- stop thinking about it!_

"Uh, the, uh, spinal column?" Finn was answering in confusion as Marceline fought to get her body's response to those memories under control.

"If you'd please put Miss Abadeer down for one second and move your brain back from your pants to your head you'd know that we _just_ covered the fasciculus gracilis which is the location of the PCML axons in the posterior column. And since the title of today's class is 'axon positions within the spinal column' you can be safe in the knowledge that despite being something I'd have expected from a fifth grader your answer was at least technically correct."

The class laughed appreciatively and Phoebe finally glanced over at Finn just in time to see his entire face turn tomato red from embarrassment. But Marceline wasn't paying attention to that, she was busy watching Professor Sugar's face. The older woman looked angry, a little flushed, and irritated. Suddenly Finn's amazing idea to make Phoebe think he'd moved on seemed a lot less funny when she realized it probably looked like she'd moved on too, to _Finn_ of all people. The thought of his big sweaty man feet touching her legs in bed made her shiver in disgust. But it looked like it had had an effect of some kind on Professor Sugar so maybe it wasn't all bad. Marceline clung to that faint sliver of hope for the rest of class and didn't hear a word more about the central nervous system. She was standing to leave and poke listlessly at her lunch again as she did every time she had anatomy in the morning when a voice calling her name made her look up and catch her breath. Professor Sugar was staring right at her with eyes that radiated fury.

"Abadeer, my office. Now."

"Ooh, someone's in trouble." Finn teased as the older woman strode away in the opposite direction from the press of students heading to the cafeteria. "What do you think she wants?"

"Probably going to spank me." Marcy replied distantly. Finn laughed and she realized too late that she'd said that out loud.

"Yeah, probably. Or she's gonna make you spend the entire day reformatting the references on your term paper. Or, you know, make you say a hundred Hail Marys for being caught with a boy's arm around you."

"You don't count, you have no balls." Marcy muttered as she shoved past him and struggled in the direction the professor had just left in. She didn't even wait to hear Finn's response, just left him gaping after her looking even dumber than usual. He sighed and turned in the direction of the cafeteria too. What was the worst that could happen? Sugar wasn't really going to spank his friend, Jake had said she was pretty chill when you got to know her. Pretty _pretty_ too, she was respectable and single, at least there was no ring on her finger, and what would make Phoebe more jealous than him dating their professor? A plan began to form in Finn's mind, one he was sure was pure genius. He was going to either get his ex back and this time he'd make an effort to fulfill her needs, or he'd get a hot older woman and they weren't as into sex as girls his own age anyway, right? It was a perfect, flawless plan as far as he could see. Satisfied with his course of action and forgetting all about his concern for Marceline Finn stuffed his hands into his pockets and went to lunch with a jaunty grin on his face.

...

The tips of Marceline's ears felt like they were on fire and distractedly she wondered if they were flaring red with the embarrassed blush she was trying so hard to control. Had Princess noticed? But she remembered she shouldn't call the other woman that, not even in the privacy of her own thoughts. Had _Professor Sugar_ noticed she was blushing? Could she hear Marceline's heart pounding out a complex rhythm behind her ribs? The younger woman's mind buzzed with questions as she stood before her professor's desk waiting to be acknowledged. Finally Sugar looked up and gestured sharply to the chair.

"Sit."

Marceline sat. By now the last of the bruising to her ass and legs had healed and she mourned the loss of that delicious pain, it would have been so hot to sit there feeling the ache from the marks her lover had left on her. But this was about her paper, she was sure of it. Or about Finn and she was going to get yelled at for being too demonstrative in class. But Professor Sugar just gazed at her with impassive eyes, making her squirm a little under the scrutiny. Finally the older woman broke the silence.

"Lock the door and close the blind." she ordered, still in that detached voice. Marceline stood and did as she was told. She wondered why she didn't feel more surprised, just hyper aware of her own body from the anticipation of what she thought was about to happen. The moment she'd let the blind down and the door lock had clicked shut there was a hand on the back of her neck and she turned eagerly into a possessive kiss, pressing herself as close as possible to the older woman and offering no resistance to the hands grappling with her jeans.

"Fucking Mertens now, seriously?" Sugar snarled around the kiss.

"No, just making his ex jealous." Marceline replied honestly.

"Come to my place tonight at seven. Bring your overnight things."

Marceline nodded and before she had a chance to reply she was pushed back into the chair by the desk, jeans and panties around her ankles and so turned on she could feel herself getting close before the other woman's tongue had even touched her. She pressed forward hurriedly against the mouth that was hungrily exploring her and was rewarded by the push of a slim finger entering her and curling forward inside, pressing against the core of her pleasure and sending her vision blurring with every pulse. Her hands gripped the edge of the chair and hips drove forwards relentlessly against lips and tongue and fingers until she was trembling with need and impatience. Sugar broke off from her frantic administrations long enough to meet Marceline's eyes with a burning stare.

"Come for me. Stay quiet." she ordered in a harsh whisper, before pressing her face back between trembling thighs and once again assaulting aching, oversensitive flesh with the tip of her talented tongue.

Marceline was nothing if not obedient. When she felt the crest of a huge climax begin to lock her muscles in place and clamp her legs tightly around the woman pleasuring her so thoroughly she bit down on her lip and let herself ride that wave as quietly as possible. Back arched and head tipped back against the overwhelming crush of orgasm it was impossible not to let herself become lost in the sensation as surge after surge of aching sensation rippled through her. Finally the waves eased and Sugar made as if to pull away but with uncharacteristic directness Marceline slid a hand through her lover's hair and gently gripped her in place, guiding her mouth back to caress her with lingering kisses.

"Softly." Marcy begged quietly. Her eyes were still closed and with her senses so overwrought the lightness of each kiss and caress was almost dizzying. She was unconsciously sliding her finger's through Sugar's hair in the same swirling circles that her lover's tongue gently danced around her and she lost herself to the patterns of sensation. Maybe it had only been a few moments more but the circling tongue grew a little more direct, a little more eager, and the banked fire Marceline hadn't even realized was still inside her flared unexpectedly as she came a second time. It caught her by surprise and she cried out as the pleasure suddenly surged through her again, fist tightening on soft red hair and hips jerking forward as she flooded her lover's mouth with sweetness. This time recovery was almost like waking up, coming back to the world from a place where only sensation and warmth existed until her awareness expanded to include the lips kissing her own tenderly and the hand cupping her cheek. Marceline opened her eyes again and let the lazy grin spread unchecked across her face.

"And that's all the sweetness you're getting out of me today." Sugar told her teasingly. "Can you stand? I really think you should eat some actual food on your lunch break before your next class. Remember this next time Mertens wants to put his hands anywhere near you. You're mine. Nobody else gets to see this, understand?"

Marcy nodded, she was more than happy with that arrangement. It was a little difficult to stand but she got to her feet on her second attempt and pulled her clothes back on, still grinning happily and eyes a little unfocused.

"Seven, your place?" she asked.

"Don't be late or I may have to punish you. Marceline?"

She turned, hand already on the door handle.

"Yeah?"

"If we're doing this then there are rules. There has to be, we've both got way too much to lose. Nobody can know and we must be distant and professional when we're not alone, you understand?"

"Of course."

"Good. Now go eat some lunch, act normal and get ready for tonight. Wear something you don't mind getting ruined and bring a change of clothes for tomorrow, you're not going to be able to wear whatever you bring tonight."


	4. Chapter 4

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It wasn't difficult to fit into Bonnie's routine so long as she was careful not to be in the way. Classes through the day were strictly professional and Professor Sugar was just as brisk and efficient in delivering her notes as always. Marceline was doing well enough in anatomy and there was never any room to suggest favoritism in the way she was graded. Sometimes a code word at the end of the lecture would act as a summons and she'd disappear for an hour or two when neither of them were busy; if anyone wondered why their usually friendly professor's office door was locked and blinds drawn they never asked. Finn did wonder a few times where his friend disappeared to over lunch but he had so much to do with football practice, being courted by professional NFL scouts and struggling through the academia that didn't come naturally to him that he wasn't left with much time to ponder the mystery of the missing Marceline. Nights were more often than not spent in a haze of pain-pleasure and the intoxicating bliss of submission. It almost came as a surprise to wake one morning shivering in Bonnie's arms and discover that there was snow on the ground outside. Where had the fall gone? Overnight the air was more than just crisp and cool; an evening breeze lacked even the smallest breath of warmth and the students darted from class to class with heads bowed against the merciless weather and subzero temperatures. Most of them, anyway.

"HEY MARCY! GO LONG!"

She looked around just in time to catch a face full of half frozen slush that almost passed for a snowball and despite the frigid air her core was instantly filled with a boiling rage. Marceline spat out a mouthful of slush and stalked forward in deadly fury.

Finn and his brother Jake were grinning at her from the middle of the quad and standing proudly besides a rapidly melting pile of almost-snowballs. The younger boy had another one raised in a gloved fist.

"Don't you dare!"

Marceline didn't manage to get her lips closed in time to avoid another mouthful of snow and she barreled forwards into Finn's stupid laughing face as Jake leaped back out of her way.

"You're an asshole, Finn Mertens! You're the world's biggest, hairiest, stupidest, grossest, shit-covered asshole!"

He skidded backwards on the damp grass and pulled her down too, half trapped when his his huge frame rolled across her side and breathless from the fall and reluctant laughter. She could see him gazing around and it didn't escape her attention that a calculating look had crossed his broad face. Out of the corner of her eye Marceline could see a large crowd of students watching them and one very familiar vividly red head in particular, hair so bright it almost flamed in the weak sunlight. Oh God, Phoebe was there and that meant Finn's brain has just gone even stupider. He was grinning at her in a sort of fixed way and leaning down and oh _hell no_ , Finn was definitely going to cross a fucking line because his dumb ex was watching.

"Don't-"

He wasn't listening. Finn clumsily mushed his mouth against hers and Marcy cringed at the sensation of stubble rough lips and chin chafing against her skin. She was already sensitive from the cold and it was more like being unwillingly kissed by damp sandpaper than anything even remotely pleasant.

"Get off me, fag-balls!" Marceline snarled to a chorus of wolf whistles from the watching crowd as he broke contact. Urgh, her mouth was unpleasantly wet and she couldn't even find leverage to sucker punch him in the crotch although she desperately wanted to.

"Girls were looking!" he pleaded. "Cute girls, hot girls! And, like, Phoebe!"

"I don't fucking care! You don't just smooch someone without their consent! And especially not when you know they're a l-" Marcy checked herself at lightning speed and with some impressive quick thinking managed to avoid saying 'lesbian' and redirected her traitorous mouth to; "-l-less forgiving person than most of your other friends."

"Come on, Marce, you promised to help me get whichever girl I wanted to date!" Finn begged.

"Dude, get off her and let her up. You're gonna be late to calc and you're a doofus." Jake added with a frown. He was giving Marceline a shrewd look, like he'd caught the almost-word that had flown right over his younger brother's head. Finn reluctantly backed off and the crushing weight pinning Marceline's right side to the half frozen ground disappeared. She struggled to her feet with a scowl.

"Marcy, come on." he tried again.

"I'm gonna be late." she replied angrily, shouldering past him and limping away on a leg that had gone numb from the cold and the weight of a dumb boy sitting on her. Jake turned to berate his brother but Marceline was too far away to hear much of what he said. She was hurrying to her next music class through a whispering crowd of other juniors and having a completely internal panic about what she was going to say to Bonnie when the inevitable gossip reached the redhead.

...

Marceline didn't get chance to talk to Bonnie before the evening and even if she had she still wasn't completely certain what to say. Her sense of foreboding increased exponentially when she noticed a terse message on her phone as she walked home from evening classes.

 _Club, tonight 7pm. If you're late it'll be worse._

Part of Marceline was terrified and part was writhing in anticipation of whatever the evening's punishment would be. Because if Bonnie had planned on breaking up with her, or telling her they weren't playmates anymore or whatever the relationship even was since they'd never bothered to define it, she wouldn't do it at the fetish club. No, this was going to be a night of intense punishment for letting anyone else near enough to press their gross dude-lips on her skin. Marcy was glad she belonged to someone, that someone cared enough to not just be a little jealous but to use that as a way of exploring their unique sexual dynamic instead of expressing it in a more destructive way. Maybe a girl her own age would have exploded in a jealous rage but Bonnie was clearly well past any kind of stupid teenage drama. It was one of the many, many things Marceline loved about their significant age gap, that and the older woman's considerable experience. Her mind was running wild picturing what might happen that night as she dressed for the club in some fancy silk lingerie and threw a hoodie and jeans over the top for the bus ride into town.

Of course the bus was late, why would it even try to be on time when Marcy had someplace to be? It was well past seven by the time she slid away from the busy main street and down an icy side road to their usual club. The doormen recognized her and let her in with a knowing smile; just how many people had Bonnie informed of her punishment tonight? Or, Princess. They didn't use outside names in the club, not under any circumstances.

There was always music playing inside. It served as a cover for anyone not invited who walked past and even if the patrons weren't there to play or hook up they could still dance and have a good time. Marceline loved the feeling of the overwhelming bass reverberating through her chest like a second heartbeat, she'd have come every month just for the dancing even if she hadn't found the most amazing older Domme to play with. One who was apparently waiting in her trademark leather catsuit in the dressing room and tapping an ominous looking riding crop against her thigh restlessly.

"Don't be late, I said." Princess greeted her with an eye roll.

"The bus was slow." Marcy tried to explain.

"I'm not looking for an excuse. I want to know how you're going to make it up to me."

Marcy wordlessly indicated her hoodie and Princess shot her an amused look. When the younger woman failed to answer and simply held her arms wide in invitation she reached forward curiously and tugged the zipper down, catching her breath a little at what was revealed.

If an almost criminally skin-tight leather catsuit was Princess' trademark look then Nightwing was rapidly establishing herself as the girl with the best lingerie collection. It helped that her credit card bills went straight to her father to pay and the one time he'd awkwardly brought up the numerous purchases she'd made at Victoria's Secrets and other high end lingerie stores she'd just asked him if he thought she didn't need underwear just like all the other girls her age and he'd hurriedly changed the subject. If his nineteen year old daughter wanted to wear hundreds of dollars of silky lingerie while she was away in college he wasn't going to stop her, so long as she didn't turn up on his doorstep pregnant or something. He'd simply paid the bills quietly and decided he didn't want to know who she was buying lingerie to impress.

Well Princess certainly seemed impressed at least. She let her eyes linger on the swell of a perfect bust cupped in deep, forest green silk and trimmed in ivory lace.

"Matching?" she murmured huskily as she brushed a thumb across the soft curves, making her lover sigh and lean into her touch.

"Uh huh. Brand new, just for you."

"Can't wait to take you home after this. But we have some entertainment first. I want you to let some people in to watch tonight."

That was her punishment then, public humiliation. She could feel herself beginning to warm with anticipated arousal just thinking about it.

"Yes, mistress."

"Good girl. I spoke with some of the other Dommes, we feel you'd be perfect to make an example of. Nightwing, look at me."

Marcy reluctantly opened her eyes as the inquisitive touch left her chest.

"Remember, this is play. You can always say no, always use the safeword. You don't have to do anything you don't want." Princess murmured.

"I know, same as always. I want to do it." Marcy replied softly. It was part of their foreplay now, there was nothing Marceline found hotter than telling her lover exactly how much she wanted it. And it was the first and most important rule in any kind of play, consent needed to be clearly established.

Princess had shimmied the younger woman's jeans down and off until she was wearing nothing but the delicious green silk underwear and a pair of curvaceous black ankle boots. The kisses that she trailed back up those sinfully long legs were edged with teeth and anticipation. Princess finished with a slow, deliberate love bite right on Marceline's inner thigh, sucking at the smooth skin and biting down with enough pressure that the bruise would last for days.

"Please." Marcy gasped, not giving a fuck that they were in the dressing room and anyone could walk in at any second.

"Later. That's just a warm up." Princess told her. The redhead's smile behind her customary black cloth eye mask was dark and wicked, Marceline's imagination was in overdrive picturing all the ways they might finish the night. She followed her Domme through into the club proper and instead of making for the stairs up to the private rooms she was led out onto the dance floor. Princess pulled her close and warm lips found her ear; March shivered at the contact.

"Show me how you sway."

Hypnotically, it turned out. With the bass shaking the air and the mesmerizing electronic beats it was too easy to lose herself to the pure joy of music, let her hips move with the rhythm as the muscle memory from years of dance classes took over. Probably it was quite the show, just in her silk lingerie and heels moving rapturously to the music, but Marcy only had eyes for one person that night and the appreciative stares she was drawing from the crowd went unnoticed. A calming hand on her neck stilled her and she looked up to meet her lover's eyes, unsure how long they'd even been on the dance floor.

"Upstairs. As much as I love watching you move I want to hear you moan now." Princess muttered into her ear. Marceline nodded and followed gladly, warm from the dancing and already full of the adrenaline of anticipation.

The biggest playroom was empty save for the same unicorn dressed woman Princess had been talking to the night Marcy had insisted they play a second time. She nodded to the door when they entered together and Princess pressed some kind of switch. Marceline didn't see what it did but evidently it was some kind of summons that a public session was about to begin because as Princess was strapping her to an upright X shaped frame the door opened again and a crowd of maybe a dozen or more people entered.

"You're still fine with having an audience?" Princess murmured. Marcy nodded and she smiled in reply as Princess tightened the last leg restraint and slid her hand up to the bite bruise on her lover's thigh, pressing it until the younger woman sucked in a breath of pained arousal.

So that's what the dancing had been for, to advertise that they were there and Nightwing was absolutely obedient to her Domme. Looked like plenty of people had gotten the message; Princess wanted to make this a public session and she was well known enough to gather a crowd even without the addition of her new and utterly gorgeous sub. Displaying the girl like that on the dance floor was just purely to show her off, because Princess wasn't stupid and she was aware that her new playmate was highly coveted. If she hadn't made it clear to everyone watching that Nightwing was playing with her that night there'd be someone else trying to woo her sub away within minutes.

The first blow was a stinging slap to the cheek and Marcy reeled as far as the restraints allowed her. She hadn't been expecting that although it wasn't unwelcome despite the surprised gasp it drew from her.

"You all know Nightwing, my girlfriend?" Princess was asking the watchers. Marcy stilled at stared at her, standing in profile with her eye mask and skin tight leather. Girlfriend? She tried the feeling of it in her mind. _Girlfriend_. Well they'd have had to define it at some point, they'd been sleeping together for almost two months now and it wasn't so unexpected. The crowd nodded and muttered, they'd all watched Nightwing with varying degrees of envy. "Well, Nightwing has been bad. Today she went and let some boy try to kiss her, right where he knew I was watching. I know she didn't know he was going to. But I still think she needs to be punished. What do you think?"

"Dumb little bitch needs teaching a lesson about who owns her." a man growled from the crowd. Princess' face darkened.

"I don't know how you and your sub do it, but Nightwing isn't my possession. I don't own her. She's here of her own free will, that's the way we like it. Call her or any other woman here a bitch again and I'll have you banned forever, Phoenix."

The man glared but remained silent and from the smirks of some of their assembled audience Marceline realized he must have had clashes with Princess before and they're been expecting her to lay a smack down on him. It didn't distract from the fact that plenty of other people had murmured they she needed to be punished though, and Marcy was eager to start. Her skin already prickled in anticipation, hypersensitive and cool from exposure to the air. Princess turned to her again and ice-blue eyes assessed the perfect curves of her abdomen and hips then slid down to the impossibly long legs splayed against the frame below. The older woman's gaze lingered for a moment on the thin slip of silk protecting her lover's dignity from the watching eyes and Marceline wondered what she was thinking. Princess' face held the promise of something much more personal later, something just for the two of them.

"So, Nightwing, I'm gonna have to punish you. So that you know not to go kissing boys to make me jealous." she murmured with a predatory smile. The crop flashed in her hand and landed a sharp blow on the side of Marceline's right thigh and she cried out at the abrupt pain. She'd been expecting a warm-up but apparently tonight Princess wasn't feeling generous and Marcy knew that the fine spider-web of broken blood vessels under the skin from each blow would take days to fade. Without the slow build of endorphins to blur her pain into pleasure the crop stung much worse than it would otherwise.

"What are you not going to do again?" Princess prompted her as the initial sharp pain from the blow faded to a hot ache.

"Kiss boys." Marceline whimpered. She sagged a little in her restraints, cringing in anticipation of the next lash from the crop. It landed against the outside of the other thigh, mirroring the first bruise, and left her writhing and moaning with the pain. Below the surface discomfort their brief moment in the dressing room earlier still had her blood pumping and when she opened her eyes the sight of all those people watching her was enough to send her squirming with a completely different sensation. This time the burn of the crop curled her toes and made her gasp with agony and arousal.

"You don't kiss boys, Nightwing. Not when you're putting on a little play scene for me, not to wind me up or rile me. You don't play head games with me." Princess was continuing. As she spoke the end of the crop was trailed teasingly along the bruises before dancing up one trembling inner thigh right to the edge of the silk panties. They were already darkened with damning evidence of how much Marcy was enjoying herself. As Princess met her eyes she bit her lip coyly and gazed up through long, dark lashes.

"I'm sorry, mistress." Marcy replied in a breathy purr.

"Not today. You've displeased me." Princess chided. Marceline looked away, down to the right, feigning humiliation.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness." she murmured. It was the power trip that got Princess off, she was all about being in control.

"That's better. Now how about we make you scream as prettily as you can for all these lovely people?"

The evening blurred into the burn of the crop and then a flogger against her tortured skin, waves of rapturous agony cresting and falling as Marceline lost track of what was going on around her, of anything but the sensations she was drowning in. And then it stopped, abruptly and without explanation. She looked up, surprised and shaken, trembling with what she belatedly realized was the frustration of orgasm denial.

"Are you sorry now?" Princess asked smugly. Her smile was dark and full of wicked delight, she knew how close she'd worked her lover and had timed the end of the session perfectly.

"Come on, _please_ , I'm sorry!" she begged. The older woman leaned forward until her lips were brushing the shell of Marceline's ear and her warm breath caused even worse shivering.

"No. Any more brattiness from you and I'll have you stand in the middle of the club and read exerts from Fifty Shades Of Grey out loud to everyone." she murmured, obviously amused.

"I want you." Marcy pouted, well beyond dignity or defiance since her aching need was too urgent.

"When we get home." Princess whispered back. As she withdrew she left a small bite mark on the exposed neck just below Marcy's ear, a hickey so faint probably nobody else would notice it. Then she whirled to the watching crowd and herded them out of the door before turning back to her lover when the last of their guests had left.

"I suppose you're going to follow me home like a lost puppy again?" Princess asked with a wry smile as she trailed feather light fingertips down Marceline's chest and abdomen.

"You want me to." she shot back between soft moans and whimpers.

"Still such a brat, it's almost like you haven't learned your lesson."

"Maybe I like it when you punish me in public."

"It certainly looks like you do."

Marceline gasped in surprise as an electric bolt shot through her whole body. Princess' hand had slid just low enough to brush the wetness turning the forest green silk almost black and betraying how turned on Marceline was getting. But that was against the rules, it made her nervous to take a risk like that even if it was hot. Princess must have seen the spark of reluctance in her eyes because next second she was releasing the wrist and ankle restraints and tugging Marceline from the room, frustration making them both hurry.

Down the stairs, into the dressing room, into regular street clothes and then right out the back door to the parking lot and into Bonnie's car again, back in their everyday personas and more than ready to finish what the club night had started.


	5. Chapter 5

There was a trail of discarded clothing leading from the front door, up the hall and into the special sound proofed bedroom. It started out innocently enough, a dark grey hoodie, a jacket and floor length deep purple dress, jeans and heeled boots, but then the trail became full of leather clothing and panties soaked with the evidence of the night's desires and frustrations.

Across the bed Marceline was handcuffed spread-eagled and spectacularly naked. She arched and moaned as her lover drew her fingernails in torturously slow lines down her abdomen and the tops of her thighs, leaving raised red lines. The act itself felt almost reverent in its sadism, that Bonnie was acting out her darker fantasies every bit as much as Marceline, that they both loved the pain it caused, that it was what society considered 'wrong', perverted. Something about the wrongness of it was attractive and so long as they were both enjoying it neither of them worried about how other people would view it if they knew.

"You realize that you're corrupting me as much as I'm corrupting you." Bonnie murmured as she gave in to temptation and let her hand slide down between her lover's legs, moving rhythmically against the warm wetness she found there and causing the other woman to swear and grind against her.

"Then we're both guilty. At least we're in good company." Marcy managed to gasp around the friction pulsing through her.

"Mm, you know, I could just do this all night, Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you all night long and make you scream my name?" the redhead asked with a leisurely smile.

"God, yes. Fuck me." Marcy replied in a moan.

"Beg me." Bonnie purred.

" _Please_. I'll do anything, I just need you, I- _ah-_ "

She broke off with a gasp as two fingers pushed past the slight resistance of her lips and entered her slowly, carefully, stroking and caressing almost a little shyly.

"Like this?" Bonnie asked again.

"Harder. Please."

The pressure and speed increased and soon there was a mouth biting and kissing along her thighs too until eager lips reached the point of her pleasure and a tongue was lapping at her and circling with expert talent. Marceline came hard and long, screaming her lover's name and writhing as much as her restraints would allow. She whimpered when the ministrations of that incredible mouth finished with a soft kiss against her core before hands and lips disappeared. Any second now Bonnie would untie her and she'd get to make the redhead scream in turn, Marceline thought in languid anticipation. She'd yet to discover anything she enjoyed more than losing herself in pleasuring her lover. But instead of the expected clink of handcuff keys Marceline felt the pillow under her head sink down as a knee landed either side of her head.

"You ready?" Bonnie asked, eyes lidded and burning with lust.

Marcy responded by craning her head forward and placing a light kiss against her, making her moan and roll her hips down until she was grinding against the younger woman's mouth. It was lewd, Marceline was aware that she was probably a pervert, but one of the things she loved most about going down on Bonnie was the other woman's taste. Sweet and sharp, she was like nothing the younger woman had ever experienced before. As the redhead rode her face relentlessly, gripping the headboard as she arched against the eager tongue, Marceline took the time to indulge in that incredible taste. The flood of sweetness that hit her lips as the other woman came against her mouth, head thrown back and body arching in ecstasy, was enough to send a fresh wave of heat rushing through Marceline although she'd been so certain she was spent. When Bonnie finally tumbled bonelessly down beside her and reached out to open the handcuffs Marcy immediately rolled over so she was pinning the redhead beneath her, grinding against her thigh.

"You promised to fuck me all night." she pointed out between urgent, messy kisses that tangled their scents and flavors together and left her breathless.

"I did." Bonnie agreed as her hands found Marceline's hips and helped guide her movements. She slid further up and her lover hooked one leg up onto her shoulder, gasping as it brought their cores into contact and rocking her hips against the delicious friction.

"And it's barely even twelve. Still plenty of night to go." Marcy continued.

"I bet I'll wear you out with just one more. You won't last the whole night." Bonnie teased. Her eyes were squeezed shut though, concentrating on the pleasure that their bodies moving together was filling her with. Soon, she knew she was still so turn on and when her climax came again it would be just as explosive as the first.

"Challenge accepted." Marcy gasped.

It was hours later when they lay down to sleep, Marceline curled trustingly in Bonnie's arms with her head pillowed on the redhead's shoulder.

"Bon?"

"Hm?"

"Did it really bother you that Finn tried to kiss me? You know I was super mad with him about it, right?"

"No, I know he's an idiot. But he looked up and looked right at me before he did it and I don't like people trying to mess with my head. Even if he doesn't know about us I still get territorial. And who the hell does he thinking he is trying to kiss people without consent, people who obviously don't want him to? I was never genuinely mad at you but he's pissed me off for real with that stunt."

"He's trying to get back into his ex-girlfriend's pants. Or not, I guess. The whole reasons he got dumped the first time is because she got sick of waiting to fuck him and he's still trying to pretend he's not asexual. Dude might be secretly gay for all I know but he just isn't interested in sex."

Bonnie was quiet for a while, thinking it over.

"Then why'd he decide to lock eyes with me? Unless he suspects something between us, and I just don't think the guy's that observant." she finally asked softly.

"Dunno, why do guys do anything?" Marcy shrugged. Bonnie hummed in reply but didn't say anything else and Marceline could tell she was on the edge of sleep. But there was something she wanted to know before the night ended. She spoke softly, hesitant and a little unsure if she really wanted to bring it up but still curious nevertheless. "Bonnie? At the club tonight, you said... Girlfriend?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Girlfriend, that ok?" came the sleepy reply.

"It's perfect, I love it."

"Mm, good. Goodnight."

"Goodnight. _Girlfriend."_

…

"Hey, what are you doing today?"

"Uh, today? I'm planning on sitting in my dorm room with my bass trying to figure out that hammer-on-pull-off technique Tool use. It sounds way cool but I can't get the same volume on the pull-off as the hammer-on, I guess it's just practice but-"

"Put the bass down and come downstairs, I'm parked outside and you're coming to my brother's place for dinner."

Marceline sighed; she didn't want to acknowledge that it wasn't just a regular day. She'd always hated Thanksgiving and since her mom was away visiting her step-father's family and Hunson had immediately booked a flight to Europe when the first mention of the holidays came up, it wasn't like she even had anyplace to be or anyone to celebrate with. Uncle Simon would have loved to have seen her but he was sick in the hospital and in no fit state to receive visitors. Finn had some important football game and after that he and Jake were driving a couple of hours north to visit their parents; she'd politely declined their offer to come along with them. Marceline had only met Jake's weird twin brother Jermaine once and she had no interest in repeating the experience. So she'd planned on just hiding out in her room and pretending she didn't like turkey anyway.

But as usual Bonnie had gone ahead and made plans and it wasn't part of their dynamic for Marceline to argue. Besides, it was a relationship milestone, right? She nodded to herself; ever since the word 'girlfriend' had been uttered things had been subtly different. Less overtly about kinky sex, more like a genuine adult relationship. They're watched TV and eaten takeout Thai food a few night ago and gone to bed without anyone even having a single screaming orgasm and somehow that hadn't been frustrating. Marceline had left some clothes and a toothbrush at the older woman's apartment, they'd laughed about and then had a fairly serious conversation about their age gap and what sort of issues they'd need to be prepared to face. And it was those intense blue eyes and light red hair that Marcy thought about to keep herself warm when the winter wind cut through her clothing, it was the way that Bonnie laughed and her whole face lit up that made the younger woman's heart thump inside her rib cage. At no point had Marceline been prepared to fall in love with someone on her first adventure onto the BDSM scene.

"You still there?" Bonnie prompted, and Marcy realized she'd just been sitting quietly lost in thought.

"Yeah, yeah sorry. I, uh, I better put some pants on." she replied with a shake of her head. Ruminations on how their relationship was rapidly becoming more serious than anything she'd ever been in before could wait, Marcy had some turkey to eat.

...

Dr Edwin 'Neddy' Sugar was not what Marceline had expected. He had his older sister's eyes for sure, and the same pale red hair that on his face grew into a pair of heavy, bushy eyebrows. Those brows were currently pulled together into a frown as he surveyed the nervous girl sitting on his couch. He cleared his throat and took a breath, holding it for a long second before he let it out without speaking a word. Finally the tension grew too heavy and Marceline couldn't stand it.

"So, this is a nice place." she ventured, gesturing around at the spartan lounge. "When did you move in?"

"About ten years ago." he replied tightly. Marceline tried not to glace back at the plain wooden crate holding up the TV and the completely bare white walls.

And that killed that conversation. Marceline clasped her hands together and stared down at them, wishing hard that Neddy hadn't forgotten cranberry sauce and hadn't asked his sister to run to the store for him.

"So, how old are you?" he asked unexpectedly. Marceline looked up and caught the direct frown assessing her face.

"Old enough to consent." she replied coldly. It wasn't too hard to see why Ned had a problem with her and she wasn't in any mood for yet another person to tell her she was too young to know how she felt. It was the same shit she'd heard for years and she wasn't going to sit there and take it from her girlfriend's weird brother.

"Is that so? Old enough to know what you're getting into? That's the real question, isn't it? See, my sister, she's a woman of pretty unorthodox tastes and it's gotten her in some pretty bad trouble in the past. And you're too young to get yourself involved in that kind of craziness. You-"

"Hey, sorry I took a while! The traffic's crazy out there."

Bonnie's voice calling from the hall broke the tension and Ned looked around.

"No worries, the turkey won't be done for another halt hour." he replied easily as his sister appeared in the doorway with the missing cranberry sauce. Her smile flickered a little between Marceline's still set face and Ned's rigid smile and it didn't take a genius to work out where the conversation must have gone.

Dinner was tense and mostly quiet. The best respite was when Bonnie reminded Marceline halfway through that Finn was playing his big match that day and they put the TV on to watch. It wasn't like she was an especially big football fan but it certainly beat sitting watching Neddy throw his sister significant glances and Bonnie return them with an obstinate jut of her chin. The game was approaching halftime and looked to be going Notre Dame's way at least, Penn State's defense were outpaced trying to keep up just with Finn.

"And Notre Dame's star quarterback Finn Mertens takes the ball, looks like he's making a run for it! You have to say, that young man has got some serious speed when he gets into the zone, Penn State look to have been caught unawares and- OH TOUCHDOWN! WHAT A RUN!" the commentator yelled over the sudden eruption of cheers and screams from the crowd.

"Go Finn!" Marcy grinned, glad for her friend he was doing so well.

"Friend of yours?" Neddy asked, still frowning.

"A good friend." she replied distractedly, smiling at the TV where Finn's team mates were hoisting him up onto their shoulders in celebration. "We've been friends since freshman year."

"So... you're a student?" Neddy pressed. Marceline looked away from the TV and met his gaze calmly, she'd had enough of older men putting her down to last a lifetime.

"Yeah, I'm a music major. Junior year. We didn't know we were at the same college until after we got together." Marcy replied evenly.

"I can't even- Bonnie? You're seriously getting involved with a _student_?" Neddy demanded.

"I seriously am. And I seriously don't want to hear a goddamn word about it, ok? We already talked about it, I already did a _lot_ of thinking about it and we decided it was worth the work we'd need to put into it. I brought Marcy along today because I wanted you to know about us, because I didn't want her to think she's a dirty little secret. I want you to know about and respect our relationship, Ned."

He obviously didn't know what to say so simply nodded and took an extra-large bite of turkey. Marceline shot a small grin to her girlfriend across the table and Bonnie smiled back before they both returned to watching Finn win his college football game with a crushing final score.

...

"So that was..." Marcy started in the car on the way back to her dorm.

"Yeah, it was. Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Neddy before. I knew he wouldn't approve but I wanted to at least give him the chance to be decent about it. He and I aren't on especially good terms." Bonnie replied softly. It didn't escape Marceline's notice that her hands were gripping the wheel tightly and her posture was rigid.

"When you were out getting the cranberry sauce he said something. About you getting in trouble in the past?"

Bonnie sighed and ran a hand through her hair before reaching out and lacing their fingers together, eyes still on the road.

"Neddy got me this teaching position after I left my last job. I had a bad break up and my ex outed me to the research institution I was working for. The way my contract was worded meant my project data legally belonged to them and they published it without even letting me attach my name to it as an afterthought. I lost my job and my home and everything I'd worked on for more than four years because she was spiteful."

"Wait, so because your ex wanted to get back at you for breaking up with her, she ruined your career?" Marcy asked, horrified.

"Yeah pretty much. It wasn't like they were especially thrilled I was gay but they wouldn't have had grounds to dismiss me just for having been in a same sex relationship. No, it was the kinky stuff. Apparently I was 'bringing my organization into disrepute' because what I choose to do with consenting adults behind closed doors is their business? I had to stand there while they smugly told me they owned my fucking data, even my designs were patented in their name! Someone else is getting rich off the back of my hard work and all because Shoko was a vindictive fucking _bitch_ -"

"Bon-"

"-And now I'm stuck teaching mouth-breathers like Finn and his buddies the elementary school version of things that I could _literally_ write a book about off the top of my fucking head-"

"Bonnie, please-"

"-because the way I choose to pleasure other women isn't anyone else's goddamn business but mine and theirs, it's a _basic biological truth_ that pain and pleasure use the same neural pathways-"

"BONNIE WOULD YOU SLOW THE FUCK DOWN?"

There was ringing silence for a long minute as the car slowed back to the legal driving speed and Marcy's ears rang like it had been someone else who'd just raised their voice to their new, older, dominant girlfriend for the very first time.

"I'm sorry." the redhead breathed, half sighing her words. "It just still stresses me out. I guess I haven't completely processed all of my feelings about it."

"S'ok." Marceline muttered. She didn't let go of the hand still holding her own though, it was comforting to know she could yell at the redhead if she needed to and they would still be ok afterwards.

"It was a while ago, I should just get over it." Bonnie added, although her face was still set in angry lines.

"But it's obviously important to you." Marcy soothed. "It's ok to be sad and angry about it, you lost all of your research and of course that's gonna be rough on you. Just, please don't speed through town? The last thing that's gonna help any is getting pulled over."

They'd arrived outside her dorm building anyway and the redhead pulled into a parking spot, turning to her girlfriend in the gloom and unclipping her seat belt.

"Come here." she murmured, in the velvet soft voice Marceline recognized from the hours they'd spent in the bedroom together. Bonnie could sound as soft as she wanted but she was completely in control beneath that gentle surface. The younger woman leaned forward into the kiss, glad she could at least calm her lover that way. Their kiss was deep and unhurried, like always the intoxicating feeling of just being close to the other woman had Marceline feeling weightless. When she finally pulled back a little to stare into her lover's eyes the tension from the day had almost disappeared.

"I don't have to go home. We could spend the night at your place instead." Marcy suggested.

"We definitely could. I just figured, since you have class in the morning you'd want to be closer to campus." Bonnie replied a little breathlessly. "But if you want to come over and we can unwind together-"

She broke off, eyes unfocussed and staring over Marceline's shoulder. The younger woman whipped around to see whatever it was that had her lover staring like a deer in the headlights and felt her heart seize.

Not twenty feet away Phoebe was saying goodnight to an older man who looked far too like her not to be her father. As she rooted in her bag for his keys he'd been looking to the car parked next to the one Marcy and Bonnie were sitting in and his eyes had locked with Bonnie's, widening in surprise and recognition. She was staring right back and the color was draining from her cheeks. They distinctly heard Phoebe call, "Goodnight, Dad!" over her shoulder as she opened the door to her own building and the man bid her a distracted goodnight of his own. It was only when the headlights of another passing vehicle illuminated his face that a jolt of cold horror ran through Marceline too. He was staring right at them, brow furrowed in recognition

"Is that guy staring at us?" she breathed, horrified.

"Yes, yes he is. And he definitely just saw the staff parking permit in my car window. Fuck, we have to go. That's Phoenix." Bonnie replied in a tight, strangled voice. She keyed the engine back to life and reversed abruptly out of the parking space, accelerating away from him before the man had managed to take two steps towards his own car. Marceline didn't know the specifics of what had gone down between her lover and the man who was apparently her best friend's ex-girlfriend's father but from the tension in the redhead's face she figured he was bad news. Things were about to get interesting, for sure.


	6. Chapter 6

**Surprise! You thought this was abandoned forever, huh? Sorry for the absurdly long delay BUT we likely will be wrapping this story up in the coming months. Enjoy!**

* * *

The number of people in Marceline's life who had ever apologised for screaming at her was vanishingly small. It probably said a lot about her family that she was genuinely surprised to add Bonnie to that short list.

"I'm sorry." the redhead told her for the hundredth time. "I just... I'm still freaking out. You know? He saw us. He definitely recognized me, even if he didn't see you it's not hard for him to figure out who would be sitting in my car with me."

"I know, you said." Marcy replied softly. She would have been getting sick of saying it if she wasn't so worried about her girlfriend, still tense and stiff in her arms.

"He knows where I work. He knows where you _live_. Marcy, this is serious. Phoenix isn't someone you cross. When he first turned up at the club it wasn't long after opening and at the time I was involved in setting it up. He should have had a lifetime ban from the number of rules he broke but mysteriously the other organisers voted to give him a second chance, and then a third and a fourth. He's either buying them or he has dirt on them. And now he has dirt on me and on you. I shouldn't have dragged you into all this, I'm so sorry."

Marceline tightened her arms around Bonnie's shoulders and planted a firm kiss on the top of her head. Before that night if she'd thought about it at all she'd have assumed that Bonnie was the dominant one, the protector. It made sense. She was older, experienced, she was sexually dominant. But tonight she needed to be held and told it was going to be ok and Marcy found she really didn't mind doing that at all. It made sense that Bonnie would be unreasonably worried about Phoenix knowing where she worked especially with her past. But they had leverage over him, too.

"I doubt Phoebe knows what her dad gets up to monthly. Could be something we can use if he wants to make trouble." Marcy ventured after the silence stretched between them.

"No, I don't think it's likely that he's shared it with her. But I just don't want trouble, of any kind. Listen, I'm not the kinda Domme who's gonna tell you what to do outside the bedroom or the club. But I'd appreciate it if you stayed away from her, don't add more fuel to the fire. The more under the radar you are with the whole Burns family the better."

"I promise I won't go looking for trouble." Marceline replied, careful that her answer left a small loophole if she ever needed it.

"Thanks. I'm gonna have a cigarette and get my head together, I'd appreciate it if we could just try to get past this and enjoy our night together. God knows what Phoenix had planned but if you think we've heard the last of him you're wrong. Besides, aren't you heading home for Christmas in a couple of days?" Bonnie asked. She was already unbuttoning the formal shirt she'd worn to Ned's place and letting her hair down in a soft red cascade. "You don't mind if I smoke?"

"Go for it, I'm fine with it. And yeah, I've gotta go home for Christmas with my dumb family. Apparently dumping me for Thanksgiving is totally cool with them but God forbid I decide not to fly halfway across the country to see them for my least favourite holiday."

Bonnie was rooting in her bag and produced a battered packet of cigarettes with a guilty quirk of her lips.

"I was quitting." she explained sheepishly. "But right now? I could use something to calm me the fuck down."

Fuck Phoenix, Marceline decided. Fuck his weird power play, fuck his bizarre misogyny and interfering. Most importantly, fuck him having any control over their night. That was tomorrow's problem. Tonight she was the obedient sub and ever so willing girlfriend and she knew exactly what to do to help Bonnie calm down. She started by wrapping herself affectionately around the redhead when she slumped back down onto the sofa and took a deep drag of her cigarette. When the hand not holding the smoke found the back of her neck and drew fingernails gently across the top of her spine Marceline let out a hum of pleasure, almost a purr, and nuzzled her face against Bonnie's exposed stomach. She let her lithe body curve suggestively, making sure the swell of her sublime chest brushed a light friction against her girlfriend's thighs. Marceline was rewarded by the sight of a whole cloud of smoke escaping from the redhead's mouth in a sudden burst as she let out a soft moan. Next Marcy slid lower and her hands found Bonnie's belt, it was the work of a moment to have her jeans unbuttoned and hauled down with urgency then kicked to one side and immediately forgotten about. Not when there was that look in Bonnie's eyes as she took another drag of her cigarette, not when it very suddenly occurred to Marceline that very little was off limits for her older, more experienced lover.

"How do you feel about small burns?" the redhead asked in a husky voice, already eyeing the curve of her girlfriend's exposed back. Marceline's shirt was somewhere on the floor, neither of them even remembered how it had come off. The younger woman swallowed nervously and her eyes flickered between the cigarette and her lover's face.

"I, uh. Nothing visible, yeah? In a couple of days I have to go see my mother for Christmas and the last thing I need is her asking me why I have cigarette burns all down my arms." she finally replied. Bonnie nodded, that was to be expected.

"Of course. I'll try to stay on your back, ok?"

The first touch of heat on her skin had Marceline crying out in mingled pleasure pain against the skin of her lover's thigh. The hand that had woven its way through the back of her hair drew her forward and pressed her mouth against warm, eager flesh. When the touch of aching heat found her skin again Marcy was ready and let her fingers push forward deeper inside the redhead, curling and pulsing in time with the trail of small burns across her shoulders and the drag of finger nails against her scalp. She was quickly lost to the sensations, the overwhelming rhythm of burning skin and raking nails, rolling hips and thrusting fingers. Bonnie's tell-tale tremble came all too soon and the pressure on the back of Marceline's head increased suddenly. As the first cry of the redhead's climax broke past her lips the burn of the cigarette tip found Marcy's back again and she moaned too at the ache of it and the building urgency of her own needs. This time the burn didn't stop after a second, it stayed pressed hard against her until Bonnie's orgasm had finally calmed and the redhead fell back limp, gently running her fingers through soft dark hair and murmuring that she'd done so well, been so good.

"Follow me" the redhead told her once she'd recovered enough to notice the lust still burning strong in the younger woman's eyes. Marceline allowed herself to be pulled up from the sofa and lead back through to the bedroom where she sat nervously at the edge of the mattress while Bonnie rummaged in her nightstand for something. Finally she straightened up with a box in her hands and a sly smile gracing her features. "I got you a Christmas present. It was supposed to be a surprise for the night before you leave but I think you deserve it now."

The confusion was plain on Marcy's face and the redhead came to sit with her and pressed an affectionate kiss to her cheek as she pulled the pink wrapping paper away to reveal a plain cardboard box. Marceline opened it and Bonnie had the pleasure of watching her lover's eyes grow wide.

"I've, uh, that's new." Marceline mumbled as her face burned with a fierce blush.

"I figured you'd probably not used one before." Bonnie told her softly. "Luckily, I have. The harness is adjustable so when you feel comfortable with it we can switch up positions a little, and if you look underneath you'll find another matching item."

The idea that her girlfriend had worn a strap-on to fuck women in all kinds of positions many times before should have made Marceline jealous. Instead she felt a fresh surge of need run through her at the thought of it, that she was going to receive it too and when she felt comfortable she'd even be allowed to wear it and swap positions. It felt somehow kinkier than anything else they'd tried. Beneath the impressively sized silicone toy and a layer of fuchsia gift paper there was a smaller jewellery box that Marceline picked up curiously. It was heavier than she expected and she could hear something moving around inside when she tilted it. The first thing she saw when she opened it was the gleam of silver.

"There are two keys. I have one, and I'm trusting you with the other. It's only if you need to take it off for an emergency." Bonnie informed her as Marceline lifted out what at first glance appeared to be a heavy silver necklace. It comprised of a thick silver chain and a small heart-shaped tag on the closure point of one end with two words engraved, one on each side. One bore the legend _Nightwing_ in elegant calligraphy and the other _Princess_. The catch itself was a tiny heart-shaped lock, Marceline didn't need to check to be certain it could only be opened with one of the two keys that came with it.

"This is beautiful." she breathed. "Thank you!"

"Put it on. If you're feeling brave we're going to test out your other present."

Marceline did as she was told and pulled the heavy chain around her neck. The lock came together with a satisfying click and the weight of the collar against her throat was oddly comforting. That was lucky because when she found herself almost panicking, on all fours and more vulnerable than she could ever remember being, when her whole being was occupied with slick silicone deeper than she'd had anything before, finger nails tightening on her hips until the skin broke and pleasure beginning to mix with pain, it was the weight of the chain around her neck that kept her anchored. It reminded her that she was safe with her Domme no matter how new their relationship was, Bonnie would never hurt her past what she enjoyed. And it was a mark of ownership as well as a badge of honor; she belonged to someone. The new sensations assaulted her senses with every thrust and the relentless rhythm of pain and pleasure became ever more intense until she'd abandoned all thoughts of keeping her voice down and surrendered to the agonizing climax that finally tore through her.

...

Stepping off the plane three days later into the familiar heat of Los Angeles was bittersweet. How many nights had Marceline laid awake shivering and missing the Californian warmth? Now it was blasting against her skin like she was inside a furnace compared to the icy wind that constantly swept through Notre Dame. The whole ride back to her mother's house was spent with the AC turned up to max and a bottle of ice water held to the back of her neck, just above where the new collar sat hidden in plain sight like any other necklace. Her mother was just as eagle eyed as ever though and between interrogating her about how the semester had gone and assigning a dizzying rota of chores for the week her eyes narrowed to the chain locked around her daughter's throat.

"Marceline, what is that?" she demanded.

"It's just a necklace, Mom. Do you want me to show you every single piece of new jewelry I've gotten since summer?" Marcy replied uncomfortably.

"What does that say, 'Princess'? Is that a brand? 'Princess and Nightwing'. I've never heard of that, wouldn't you prefer a Dolce&Gabbana or Dior? And is that a lock? Is that locked around your throat?"

"I've got a key, duh. Everyone in Indiana has them, it's called _fashion,_ Mom. Just because you're a thousand years old-"

"Don't you dare take that tone with me, young lady. Take that thing off before dinner."

"No. It stays on."

"Marcy, it's dangerous. You'll choke yourself in your sleep with that thing around your neck and I'll find your lifeless corpse on Christmas morning, is that how you want to die? _No seas tarado_ , just promise me you'll take it off before bed." her mother relented with a sigh.

"Is Rico here?" Marceline asked instead. She wanted to use the childish nickname Ricardio that she'd given to her step-father since he was so obsessed with fitness but it was best not to push her mother too far. Rico being a total creep was one of the many sore points in their relationship and being as far away from him as she could get had been a prime motivator in going to Notre Dame for Marcy. She didn't like the way he stared at women, didn't like that he thought it was okay to slap her mother's ass right in front of her teenage daughter or use the words 'woman' and 'bitch' interchangeably. Bonnie would have eviscerated him with a few well chosen words, Marceline was certain of it, but her girlfriend was two thousand miles away sharing an awkward Christmas with her brother.

"Rico's with his parents." her mother replied, still frowning at the collar. "He said to wish you a happy holidays."

"Sure he did." Marceline muttered to herself as she shouldered her bag and made for her childhood bedroom. No Ricardio, well it was looking like a better Christmas already despite the heat. All she needed now was a little alone time so she could let Bonnie know she'd arrived safely.

The alone time happened sooner rather than later when her mother announced she needed to run to the mall and then had an appointment right across town to keep and wouldn't be home for a few hours. The second her car engine started Marcy had her phone out and a video call to Bonnie already waiting to connect.

"Took you long enough." the redhead greeted her when the screen finally focused on her face.

"Waiting for my mom to leave. How are you?" Marcy replied.

"Not in the mood for small talk. A woman has needs, I miss you. Let me see you strip. Slowly."

It took a couple of minutes to find the right music for it and by then Marceline had managed to control her fierce blush. She'd never done anything like that before, it was difficult not to feel self conscious as piercing blue eyes watched her shimmy out of her clothes until she was down to nothing but a pair of skimpy panties and her collar. But if the calculating smile that the older woman wore was any indication Bonnie was enjoying her show.

"Very good. Now I want you to sit on the bed and take those off. Slow, don't rush it." she commanded. Marceline did as she was told, sliding the fabric down her legs with exaggerated care then stretching out coyly at an angle designed to reveal as little as possible. She glanced up at the camera through her lashes, radiating the same contrived innocence that had attracted Bonnie's attention when they'd first met.

"What would you like to see how, mistress?" Marcy asked her sweetly.

"I think you know what I want to see. Put your hands on yourself, tease yourself. Put on a show, I want to watch you get yourself off."

That blush was back but she wasn't about to let it get in the way. Not when her girlfriend was watching and ordering her to touch herself, not when it was the hottest she'd ever felt while getting herself off. It was difficult to keep things slow when she could feel Bonnie's eyes on her and follow the commands that came every few minutes in an increasingly strained voice.

"Describe it." Bonnie ordered her.

"It's, ah, warm. I'm imagining that these are your fingers. I'm picturing all the things we're gonna do when I get back."

"Do you want me to fuck you again?"

"You know I do."

"Then you'll have to earn it. Come for me, make it sexy. I'm watching you and getting so frustrated over here, I'm touching myself and imagining it's you, too. Let me see you get off."

Of course nothing compared to the way Bonnie could make her lose herself in wave after wave of intense pleasure. But coming hard onto her own fingers, listening to her lover moan as her own climax hit, that was pretty amazing too. The only thing Marceline missed was that there were no slim arms holding her afterwards, no hair stroking and murmurs that she'd done such a good job, been such a good girl. It was a strange feeling to actively want to be back at college instead of at home with her mom but Marcy couldn't shake it, more than anything she just wanted Christmas done so she could fly back to Notre Dame and straight back into Bonnie's bed.

...

"Marcy? Are you ready to go yet? Come, we're going to be late!"

"Just changing my shirt, Mom!"

There was a reason she was still topless and it had nothing to do with agonizing over which shirt to wear to Mass. It had everything to do with the tiny bottle of perfume that she'd found slipped into a side pocket of her bag. Upon opening it she'd discovered that it was an intoxicating cotton candy scent, almost overpowering but with a darker, peppery note underneath that offset the syrupy sweetness and stirred memories of warm hands on cold nights that left her breathless and covered in delicious bruising. Bonnie had left a small bottle of her perfume for Marcy to find, the same scent she'd been wearing the night they'd met and every club night after. Was it supposed to be a romantic gesture or an act of psychological domination? Marceline wasn't sure but she lost no time in spraying a little against her chest and shivering at the memory of bite bruises across her collarbones. She slid her shirt on over the top and bit her lip at the way it felt against her suddenly sensitive skin. It didn't matter how good getting herself off had been, she was aching for Bonnie's touch and the scent of her love all around her was maddeningly frustrating.

Her mother frowned when she came down the stairs, sniffing the air like there was some disgusting smell invading her home instead of a sensual mix of sweetness, spice and desire.

"You're wearing perfume to church?" her mother demanded.

"Do you want me to go wash it off and make us even later?" Marceline replied slyly. Her mother scowled but shook her head and made for the door.

 _"_ _¡No seas cabeza hueca!_ You'll be the death of me, girl. Get in the car."

Christmas Eve Mass was dumb, like always, but it did have the unexpected advantage of seeing her old high school friends. After what felt like a lifetime of sitting in church listening to the priest and fantasizing about the way Bonnie's eyes rolled back into her head when she came Marceline was finally allowed to leave. Her mother didn't look particularly happy about it but she didn't argue when Marcy announced she was going to Keila's place for a while before heading home. She left on the back of her friend's motorbike with her long hair blowing free in the wind, almost not missing her girlfriend for as long as the weightless, nearly-flying sensation of the ride lasted.

Keila had moved into a crappy apartment on the edge of Venice Beach after dropping out of college halfway through her first year, it was no surprise to Marcy that her friend wasn't even pretending to care about education anymore. But most importantly she had her own space and it was the perfect bolthole away from the oppressive atmosphere at home. Her roommates were either working overnight at the local gas station or seeing their family so they had the whole apartment to themselves; the first thing Keila did when the door closed behind them was pull a tin box of joints out of her pocket and stuff one into Marcy's mouth.

"I can't, they might piss test me at college." she tried to protest around the end of her joint. She didn't take it out though, resisting temptation had never been her strong suit.

"For real? What kind of school drugs tests at random? And you're really scared, you dare call yourself punk?" Keila shot back with that look in her eyes, the same one that had sent them to the principal's office and had their mothers called up to the school so many times in the past. Marcy narrowed her eyes and grabbed the lighter that was held out of her.

"Punker than you." she finally replied as she breathed out her first lungful of smoke. Keila just grinned and shrugged before flinging herself down onto her threadbare sofa and taking a drag too.

"So what's new in fancy college-kid land?" Keila asked when they'd both had a few deep lungfuls of smoke and Marcy was beginning to feel relaxed for maybe the first time since her plane had landed. She considered how much to tell, how much Keila would be cool with.

"I'm fucking my anatomy professor." Marcy finally admitted with a shrug.

"Oh yeah? So I guess you were failing his class then?"

"Nah, we met at a club and didn't know we even were both at Notre Dame until the next morning when I turned up for my anatomy class with bruises on my ass and legs like jello."

"Classes start on a Monday. You're telling me you went out on a Sunday night, fucked some older guy you'd just met and then rolled out of his bed and right into his anatomy class the next morning?"

"...Something like that, yeah. Except, uh, it's some older woman. My anatomy professor's a chick."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Huh, sounds kinda gay. Whatever, so long as she doesn't hurt you. Cause if she does I'll have to fly out there and beat a bitch down, I'm not even joking."

It had occurred to her that outing herself might not be the best idea but Marcy hadn't allowed herself to think about it. The fact she was sleeping with a woman wasn't something she was too embarrassed to tell her friend about, the kink was another matter though. That was just for them. Keila had lost interest anyway, she was rummaging through a box by the side of the couch and Marcy took the opportunity to pull her shirt up over her nose and take another breath of that seductive, amazing scent. If Bonnie's plan had been to get her as on edge and frustrated as possible then damn, it was working. Christmas could wait, Keila could wait. All she wanted was to fly back to Indiana.

"Ok, so you've lost you punk roots and that isn't okay, chica. I've shaving the side of your head." Keila announced as she straightened up with a pair of hair clippers in her hand and that same devilish glint in her bloodshot eyes again.


End file.
